


i'll cut my hair

by erusharu



Series: your life as hershel layton [3]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Hershel Layton, M/M, and thats why he cut it after akbadain, basically hershel associates his hair with randall, meltdowns, ranhen at the end, this is just a bunch of headcanons and projecting honestly, vomiting mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erusharu/pseuds/erusharu
Summary: Hershel has trouble communicating affection, but Randall knows him well.
Relationships: Randall Ascot/Hershel Layton
Series: your life as hershel layton [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788382
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	i'll cut my hair

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "this is home" by cavetown.
> 
> also this is in the tags but just in case: there's a brief vomiting mention after the meltdown scene.

Affection was always a complicated concept for Hershel. Hugs felt uncomfortable unless they came from immediate family, and he barely spoke to other people anyway. He sometimes dreams of a distant, blurred sequence, though. One where he's a small child, and he's holding onto another boy for comfort. He doesn't understand that dream. He's convinced himself that it's meaningless.

Just a week ago, Hershel had made his first friend. His name was Randall. He was enthusiastic, and sweet, and charming, and he didn't judge Hershel for not looking him in the eye when they talked, and he didn't mind how his responses were short and quiet, either. Their conversations were mostly one-sided besides discussing homework, but they both enjoyed it.  
On their way back from school after the second week, they stopped about a block away from Randall's house. He told Hershel how he prefers to show up alone, just in case. Testing his boundaries, Randall playfully ran a hand through Hershel's hair before waving goodbye and running off. It took him by surprise, but after giving it some thought, he concluded that it wasn't unpleasant.

  
-

  
They've been friends for a couple of months now, and Hershel starts to notice changes in his own behavior that he can't really explain. He feels safe around Randall, and he wants to let him know that, but he can't express it with words. Instead, he sits closer to him now, sometimes resting his head on the redhead's shoulder. Randall, clever as always, understands that this is Hershel's love language, and he's quick to reciprocate. They sometimes hold hands on their way home from school now, adding a peck on the cheek to the usual goodbye. They lock arms. They lay on top of each other. They hug a lot. But Hershel seems particularly at ease whenever Randall touches his hair, so he does that a lot, too. He caresses it to soothe him during studying sessions, and ruffles it during play-fights or in between fencing matches. It becomes their thing. And Hershel loves it.

-

A year has passed, and Hershel and Randall are closer than ever. Their relationship didn't change much when they added the romantic label to it, though; they were still best friends, after all. Hershel had also gotten closer to Angela and, to some extent, to Henry. It was strange, he'd never been part of a proper group of friends before, but they made him feel included and comfortable. It was nice.

  
Since physical contact is Hershel's most prevalent love language, he would hug Angela often. They'd even hold hands platonically from time to time- Hershel consents to all of this, but he makes it clear that Angela cannot touch his hair. That's something he's only comfortable with if it's Randall. He doesn't know why, he can't explain it, but he can't help it either. It just feels... intimate. Angela decides not to question it.

-

A few days before New Year's Eve, Randall had convinced his best friends to follow him on another "treasure hunt" in the forest (though Henry couldn't sneak out this time, sadly.)

After a long afternoon of digging under the trees, stuffing a backpack full of hint coins and oddly shaped rocks and Hershel and Angela making sure Randall didn't get himself hurt or lost, the sun had set behind the hills of Stansbury. As the moon glowed above the trio and a cold breeze caused them to shiver, Angela suggested they better head back.  
They were in no hurry, since both Angela and Hershel had told their parents they'd be late and Randall was sneaking out anyways, so they took the oportunity to take in the sights and enjoy each other's company as they peacefully strolled, Hershel and Randall holding hands while Angela walked next to them.

Their comfortable silence wouldn't last long.

Some young troublemakers from the town had gotten their hands on a box of fireworks stored for the oncoming celebration, and they had snuck out to set them off by the river. Alarming as that situation may be, that wasn't the thing Randall and Angela were the most concerned about.

As soon as the first explosion went off, Hershel flinched, immediately letting go of Randall's hand, clutching the sides of his head with all his strenght as he tried to block the noise away.

Two more went off, and he was down on his knees and elbows, wailing as if someone had been torturing him.  
"Hershel?" Angela called, kneeling next to him. "What's wrong?"  
He didn't respond. In the few seconds of silence between explosions, he opened his eyes and looked up slightly, in an alerted state, and saw his friends looking at him with concerned faces. They tried to talk to him, but when he was about to respond, the next few explosions went off, and he recoiled again.  
"It hurts!" He cried out. "What does? What's wrong?!" Angela reached her hand towards Hershel to examine whatever could be happening to him, but Randall quickly reacted, blocking her way.  
"No, Ange, don't touch him. I know what this is. Hold on."  
Angela backed away slightly, watching as Randall adjusted himself into a sitting position and slowly placed a hand on the top of Hershel's head, stroking his hair in a very familiar pattern, which he quickly recognized. He didn't move.

The explosions had apparently stopped. Hershel hesitantly let go of his ears, and after a few seconds he hugged Randall's waist tightly, burying his head in his shirt and grabbing onto the back of his jacket like a lifeline. Randall quietly mumbled reassuring words to his boyfriend as he kept caressing his hair, and the two stayed like that until Hershel felt calm enough to keep walking.  
They'd explain everything to Angela on the rest of the way home.

-

Hershel is in his room, staring at the ceiling in the same torn, dirty clothes he wore yesterday. He hasn't changed, hasn't showered, hasn't eaten, hasn't slept, hasn't cried, hasn't spoken a word to his parents since he came back from Akbadain. He can't get the image out of his head. It's been replaying vividly behind his eyelids the entire time. The sun was about to set, and it took a surprising amount of effort for Lucille to convince Hershel to _please, at least get out of bed_. He still wasn't talking, but at least he managed to move.

He showered for hours, silently thanking his parents for giving him the time and space he needed, then stepped out and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked pale, beaten up, exhausted, drained. He looked dead. He wondered if he was already dead and just hadn't noticed it yet.

He took a moment to look at his hair in the reflection. It was damp, and it fell over his eyes slightly.

If his stomach weren't already empty, he would've vomited right then and there. He can't stand to look at it. It makes him sick.

He grabbed a nearby pair of scissors and cut his hair as short as he could manage.

-

He wouldn't grow his hair out anymore. It reminded him of Randall. He'd trim it compulsively every few days, or whenever it reached a certain lenght. He would immediately back away if anybody tried to touch it. It was no longer just an unpleasant feeling that didn't last long, it _made him break down_. He started wearing hats whenever he could to avoid any possibility of this happening. He never took off that red cap. Every time someone questioned him about it, he answered with a white lie and a polite smile.

The very few people that were truly close to Hershel knew better than to ask about something that could potentially be linked to his past.

-

Even after spending an entire week on vacation, catching up with the found family of his youth in Monte d'Or, it still took Hershel some time to fully register that Randall was alive and well. He _did_ spend almost half of his life grieving him, after all.

In-between group celebrations, Hershel and Randall had quite a lot of alone time, of course. They'd sneak out or wait for the rest to fall asleep so they could have their heart-to-hearts. About their past together, the people they had grown up to be, their feelings and their future. During one of those many coversations, they both agreed that their relationship would remain platonic. It's not like they loved each other any less, however. The time they spent as boyfriends would remain a fond memory. They'd stay in touch, and forever be the best of friends.

It took some time and effort to break the habit; but when Hershel showed up to Randall and Henry's wedding, curly brown bangs could be seen dangling from underneath his hat.

And of course, his hair would get ruffled a lot during the party.

**Author's Note:**

> i struggled to come up with a situation for a meltdown for a few days but then i remembered the bane of my childhood. fireworks.


End file.
